The Hidden Empire
by Princepen
Summary: A civilization possessing unparalleled technology and cunning, plots to dominate one universe and destroy another. Set in the Mirror/Multi Universe established in A Full Circle, this story picks up immediately after the events in A Full Circle.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**MIRROR**

**2290**

"Your control over your Empire is slipping, Emperor Spock."

The men across from Spock at the negotiation table were as different in personality as could be, and yet they wore very similar arrogant smirks. Spock, who had never smirked in his life, was accustomed to such displays. After all, he was the current Emperor of the Terran Empire. Emperor for an unprecedented fifteen years, he now spent his days evading assassins at every turn. Such activities were growing tiresome and overshadowed what he had believed his purpose as Emperor to be.

"That is exactly why I am here, Praetor," Spock replied.

Praetor Ran's young companion sat forward in his chair more aggressively than Spock thought necessary. "Ha! So you_ admit_ that the Terran Empire is failing...that is why you asked to meet with us under the auspices of peace negotiations."

Spock raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Senator Pardek...that is not correct. Contrary to your accusations, I come to you with the sincerest of proposals: peace between the Romulan Star Empire, and my own."

"Your _own_," scoffed Praetor Ran. "A Vulcan leading Terrans...what a travesty. You are no more Terran than we are."

"Nevertheless, I not only live among them, Praetor, but I also rule them."

"That does not explain your willingness to come here and beg for mercy."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I do not beg," he said simply. "But as you mentioned, my rule over the Terrans has been challenged as of late."

"_Kirk_," sneered Pardek. "Once such good _friends_, now plotting against his own Emperor. Some would say, you deserve your plight for ever trusting a Terran piece of trash, Spock. Nevertheless, Kirk's offenses against Romulan forces have made him a legend in this war."

"And they have also marked him for dead," added the Praetor. "It won't be long now..."

Spock settled back into the uncomfortable chair and steepled his fingertips. "Praetor, you must make a decision...will Romulans share the blind egotism of the Terran masses or join with me in a merger of sorts?"

Praeter Ran was visibly confused. "You wish to_ conspire_? Explain!"

"Captain Kirk is planning a final offensive against Romulus. He intends to openly defy me, in an attempt to unseat me from power once and for all."

"We are prepared for his antics."

"No, you are not. Kirk has a secret weapon, one which he intends to use to destroy both Romulus and Remus."

The Praetor stood up quickly. "Lies! Why should we believe you? You are a traitor to your own empire."

"The Terran Empire is coming to an end," said Spock. "The decay from the inside is pervasive and destructive. And I do not intend to be Emperor when that happens. I do, however, intend to be alive. As you may be aware, the attempts on my life have become...more frequent, if ineffective."

"And?" Pardek sneered.

"And, the Terran Empire may be failing, but the Romulan Empire will not survive either. Despite your Romulan arrogance, you must admit that your military might has been severely depleted. I have the technology to protect your two planets from destruction. However, there is a price."

"What is it?" Praetor asked suspiciously.

"The Romulan Empire must go into seclusion for a time."

"Seclusion? You intend to hide an entire planet?"

"Yes."

* * *

Spock stopped outside of the Senate chamber when he heard stocky footsteps pursuing him. Of course, he knew who it would be before he turned around.

The heavyset senator kept his voice low as he approached. "The Praetor was impressed by your plans, Spock. But there is still much convincing to be done." Pardek's furrowed brow and jowly cheeks belied his quickness and unmatched mental agility.

Spock nodded briefly. "I leave that to you, Senator Pardek."

* * *

**Romulus 2367**

The incessant sound of beeping bore into his brain, but it also drew him back into the world of the living. A glaring light shone in his eyes as soon as he dared open them. The light immediately dimmed and a wizened face leaned down to look at him.

"Your father is awake," said Spock, calling back over his shoulder.

Picard raised himself up onto his elbows. Was his formidable daughter there in the room with them? She'd shot him in the leg, but apparently, he had survived. The room was nothing short of an immense cavern. The rock walls were covered in advanced technology, and all around them on various levels of scaffolding, serious looking scientists busied themselves with mysterious projects.

Picard raised an index finger to point at the busy workers. "Are those...?"

"Romulans?" Spock finished for him. "Yes."

Picard attempted to swing his legs over the side of the platform he was lying on, but Spock put a strong hand against his shoulder and pushed him back down. "I have waited a long time for you to arrive, Captain. You are not going anywhere until your surgeon arrives."

"My surgeon?" He glanced around in confusion.

Spock nodded. "We expect her to arrive shortly."

"Surgery? What the hell kind of surgery?"

"You have a startling piece of machinery inside your head, Captain Picard. It is the very reason I brought you here to Romulus."

Picard struck out with his forearm, but his aim was poor from the lingering effects of the anesthesia. Spock caught his wrist, and the Vulcan's grasp was undeniably strong. Undeterred, Picard attempted to slam his forehead into Spock's, but Spock stepped aside and brought his other hand to the base of Picard's neck and squeezed lightly. "I am afraid, Captain, that your complete cooperation is required," he said as Picard slumped backward unconscious.

* * *

"Someone fired a phaser here," said Riker. "Smart...probably Yar. At least we'll have some kind of marker." The door they had entered from sickbay had disappeared, now that they had passed through to the other side. Wherever that was...

"All I want to do is find my daughter, " Beverly Crusher said, marching past him impatiently.

There wasn't much to say to that, so the group continued on in silence, except for the sound of T'Pel's tricorder beeping.

Gradually a steep slope stretched out in front of them. Fog flowed across the path as they walked, obscuring their boots. Suddenly up ahead there was movement at the top of the hill. The same distorted figure they had seen move like lightning while watching from inside of the ship.

The next moment there was an odd wind that rushed up, blowing dust in a circle around their feet. Beverly, who had been focused on the movement up ahead, now felt a gentle pressure on her palm. She looked down to find Jeanette standing there holding her hand. It was as the girl had first appeared to she and Wesley as a young teen, innocent yet wise. She looked up at her mother with a sweet smile. "Mommy, I'm so glad you came. I need to take you to meet someone."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_MIRROR_**

**_ISS Enterprise Borg Saucer_**

Jenice Manheim got to her feet, as a crowd gathered around silently. "He's dead", she declared, stating the obvious. Next to the deceased security man's body lay a bloody dagger and a spreading pool of blood. The man's tunic had been cut crudely down the front, and a gruesome, odd symbol had been carved over his heart, visible for the onlookers to see. There were murmurs and whispers, but not much concern for the most recently fallen comrade.

M watched from outside the circle of observers and was less interested in the fact that yet another unnamed crew member had been murdered in the space of one week, and more fascinated by the attitude of Jenice Manheim, which could best be described as all business.

As the crowd dispersed, M caught up with her. "Hey," he said, sidling up alongside, as she marched through the corridors, no doubt on her way to report directly to Admiral Riker. It was now widely known that Riker had taken Jenice as a lover, and since she had basically come out of nowhere in recent weeks, it was assumed she was also spying for him.

She barely looked at him. "What do you want?"

"I was thinking we might be able to put our heads together...you know, make some plans?"

She stopped and fixed him with a disgusted expression. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're sleeping with Riker...I'm sleeping with Troi. _Come on_, we've got to be able to make something interesting happen here."

Jenice simply looked at him coldly. "My loyalty is to Admiral Riker."

"Bullshit!"

"I'm not familiar with expressions from the Lesser universe...but I am familiar with Jack Crusher, and you are nothing but a cheap replica of him."

M grinned. "Oh, you're a fan of Jack?"

"I hate him. And if I thought anyone would care, I would kill you just for the resemblance."

"Just like you killed that guy back there?"

"Who said I did?"

"No one... but you were at the scene."

"I was on orders from the Admiral."

"Right. So...what exactly is it you _do_ for Admiral Riker?"

Jenice allowed a smirk to play over her lips. "What do you want, Faux Jack?"

He threw up his hands. "Does everyone call me that now? Who made that up anyway?"

Jenice shrugged. She was clearly uninterested in the origins of nicknames, or really any small talk. So M decided to hit upon what she was really interested in.

"I'm not buying the act with Riker. I saw how crazy you were back in that detention cell. You wanted to kill Beverly with your bare hands. There's only one person who inspires that kind of passion from you, and that's Jean-Luc."

"Your point?"

"You may not believe this, but I want to protect him."

"Jean-Luc can protect himself. He doesn't need anyone for that."

"That's not what I heard. Troi's got him down in detention, and it's not looking good for him. You see, he and I...we're Lesser, right? We're not used to the effects of the Pain Room-"

"Agony Booth," she corrected him.

"-Or whatever it's called. She's had him in there for days. Rumor is he can't even talk, he's so messed up. And like you, I want to keep him safe."

"I don't believe you," she said, moving closer to him. "And if you approach me again with your lies, I will _end_ your life...do you hear me?"

M raised his hands and backed up slowly. "Loud and clear." Once she had turned to leave, he broke into a satisfied smile.

* * *

Wesley heard the screams even before the guard showed up to release him. _A newbie,_ he thought. Someone unaccustomed to the effects of the Agony Booth. Meanwhile, by the time the guard arrived, Wesley's own pain was beginning to wear off. He'd developed coping mechanisms over the years, and all things considered, they worked. So as his breathing slowed, he was able to listen more carefully to the screams of the occupant of the cell a few doors down from him.

Then it hit him. He knew that voice well but never had he personally heard the man so humiliated, so defeated. It was revelatory, and for Wesley, who had suffered so much at the hands of Jean-Luc Picard, it was a triumph. The bizarre thing was, Picard wasn't unfamiliar with the Booth. Not in the least. Wesley's mother had thrown Picard in there enough times over the years, as had various other rivals, and the best way to describe Picard's general demeanor was that he was hardened to even the most extreme forms of torture. His brain was seemingly impervious to the efforts of Troi's mind probes-or worse. And yet, he sounded at the end of his rope.

Wesley's nimble mind began to race with ideas. He'd seen his mother briefly, and she, like Wesley, was currently at Troi's mercy. Of course, Troi had charged him with somehow garnering Beverly's loyalty for her, which he had figured was nearly impossible. But did his mother know that Picard was also on board this ship? How, he wondered, had the wily captain been captured? It threw an interesting but dangerous variable into the equation.

"Come on, kid," the guard growled, as the energy barrier came down. Wesley staggered forward, and the guard grabbed his arm roughly. He recognized the guard as Pool, one of Picard's cronies from way back. The man was stupid and violent, and Wesley knew better than to even bother to struggle. He needed to conserve his energy. But as he was marched down the hall, he offered a little resistance passing the cell, where the roaring screams had turned to whimpers.

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" he ventured, craning his neck toward the cell in question.

The guard gave him an unfriendly shove. "Mind your business, you little turd!"

Wesley shrugged but was undeterred. "Okay, okay...I was just wondering how they captured him, you know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the guard sneered.

"Well, yeah..." _Stupid Red Shirt._

"Why don't you ask your Mommy?"

"Take me to her, and I _will_."

The guard suddenly whirled Wesley around, gripping him tightly by his collar.

"Bloodshed is coming, so you'd better pick a side, Crusher," the guard hissed, his eyes wild and fanatical. "Before you wind up _dead_ in the middle."

* * *

"This is the second incident this week, Jenice. I thought you were going to be my eyes and ears down on the lower decks!" Admiral Riker circled his unofficial subordinate suspiciously. By "incident", Riker meant that two of his personal security men had been murdered in just days.

Jenice grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Admiral, if you want me to carry out your wishes and keep the crew in line, I will need some real authority."

Riker looked her in the eye. "Tell me you're done with Picard. I need to know you have loyalty to me only."

She encircled her arms around his waist. "The Lesser Picard's done. Commander Troi has him at her mercy."

He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "I hope you're not lying, Jenice. Because I don't want to have to kill you." She remained silent, but her gaze didn't waver from his. He suddenly laughed, and clapped his hands, walking away from her. "I'll make you my personal security chief. Find out who's disloyal, and bring them to me."

* * *

"I know it has scarcely been a week, but it's almost as though we've known each other for years, Captain. After all...I know basically everything about you now that I need to." Commander Deanna Troi sat forward with her elbows on the table. The man in front of her was a mess. He was dirty, disheveled, didn't smell very good, and was barely able to utter a word. And still, despite her gloating, he continued to resist her. She'd learned everything about the Borg that he knew...which was substantial. And yet, she was not satisfied.

There was something missing from the Borg catalog of information contained in his brain. Or perhaps, it was not missing, but hidden. Troi was an expert and a powerful telepath. For the average humanoid to keep a single thought from her was nearly impossible. And though sickbay had thoroughly scanned his body for foreign technology, the most they'd discovered was a mechanical heart, and deep scarring from what she now knew was his capture by the Borg of his universe. And yet, she was beginning to suspect that some kind of advanced technology was at play, preventing her full intrusion into his mind. Without his secrets, she'd have to fight the Borg at a disadvantage.

She reached out and took his hand with deceptive gentleness. "Shall we go back to the Booth? I need your full cooperation, Captain, but I dare say, I'm not receiving it."

He shook his head "no" vigorously, but didn't speak.

She smiled. "Very well, then let' stay in this room, and play a new game... Locutus."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**The Romulan Wilderness**

Beverly had allowed the girl to lead her by the hand down a stark mountainside, with Wesley, Riker and the other officers trailing close behind them. If Jeanette recognized Wesley, she hadn't acknowledged his presence yet. "Where are you taking us?" Beverly eventually asked, squeezing the girl's slender, strong hand.

Jeanette looked up at her with a small smile. "You'll find out soon."

Wesley glanced to his side at Counselor Troi, who reached out to take his hand. Under most circumstances, he knew he would have been embarrassed, but right now he welcomed the comfort. Worf and Lieutenant Singh brought up the rear, phasers drawn, even though the lands they marched through seemed desolate. T'Pel walked beside Will Riker, periodically checking and adjusting her tricorder.

The group walked silently for a long while before they came to a smooth grey rock face. Jeanette waved her hand over the surface and the outline of a door blinked into view. Beverly looked down at the young teen who by all appearances was her daughter. She was comforted by the girl's presence, yet at the same time was afraid. Beverly reminded herself that the girl had appeared and then disappeared from her life in such sudden ways, that she would have to prepare herself for the inevitable loss. She tried to ignore these feelings and tightened her grip on Jeanette's hand.

Riker glanced at Beverly with growing trepidation. The Doctor was so enraptured by what appeared to be her child, that she seemed in a daze. He turned to T'Pel. "Does any of this seem familiar to you from the Vulcan texts?

The Vulcan cleric eyed him with a silent raise of her eyebrow. "No," she said simply.

Jeanette seemed to be waiting patiently, and then after a few more moments, the door slid open, much like a turbo-lift door.

"Commander," Worf called out, walking forward. "We cannot just follow this girl-"

"Worf, this is my daughter," Beverly snapped up at him.

"Mom," Wesley said, reaching out for her hand. "Mom, we don't know if it's really her...it could be a trick."

Beverly shook her head. "She's our way out of this mess, and I'm telling you...we need to trust her."

Wesley sighed but gripped his mother's hand. "Okay, Mom. I'm with you."

Jeanette looked at Wesley and her eyes glinted with sharp intelligence, but her mouth remained in a thin line. "Good decision, Wesley." She stepped into the doorway and turned around to address the group with a hard smile. "Don't speak until I tell you to. Romulans don't like foreign languages spoken on their planet."

* * *

**_MIRROR-_ ISS Enterprise Borg Saucer**

"I'm beginning to think you are too sick and twisted even for me, Deanna."

"Now _William_, that's a laugh..."

"Well, what exactly are you doing to him? Word coming from the detention levels is that he's practically non-functional."

Deanna Troi finally turned from her desk where she'd been checking her daily ship reports. Her work with Picard had left her tired and distracted. Forced to loosen her typical control over the ins and outs of ship's business, she had to admit to experiencing a somewhat obsessive period with the captain from the Lesser Universe. But it had been some time since she'd met such an interesting subject. She looked Riker up and down dismissively before turning back to her surveillance work.

"If you hadn't been so busy fucking Jenice Manheim, or whatever her name is, perhaps you'd have the time to visit Picard yourself, instead of relying on your cronies to give you Intel, Admiral."

"At least my cronies are from this universe, Deanna. Unlike that trash, you pulled off of Crusher's ship."

"Ooh, horrible dig. You're losing your grip on reality, Will. You've chosen to allow Jenice to convince you that you are untouchable. But you forget that I can read her mind. You have far more to fear from her than anyone else on this ship."

"So then tell me what she's plotting!" He paced around the room, becoming more and more agitated, while Troi sat there, the epitome of calm.

"Figure it out yourself," she said coolly.

Will walked over and flopped down in a chair next to her, trying to get make eye contact with her. As difficult as Troi could be to live with, there was no one he respected more. And she knew, of course, she did, that she was the only woman he had ever loved. He also knew that there was some truth to what she was saying, but her ability to lie was unmatched.

He watched, infuriated as a small smile played upon her lips, as she carefully studied her reports. "You're laughing at me," he accused sullenly. God, she was cruel. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in. "Are you having sex with the Lesser Picard?" he accused. He had been somewhat jealous of Deanna's relationship with the real Picard but had little fear that would arise again. Deanna was drawn to power, not weakness, and the Lesser Picard was hopelessly weak. Mainly, Riker was trying to catch her off-guard. But she was too self-assured to be bothered with his pettiness.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she murmured absently, still studying ship reports. Interesting. Another murder of a hapless redshirt and she knew exactly who was to blame. But what was the motive?

Will watched her thinking something through. He might as well have not even been there. She was ignoring him. He took in a deep breath in and finally said what was on his mind; what she already knew. "What's happening to us, Deanna?"

She turned around to regard him with near contempt. "The question is really what's happened to _you, _

Will? You've grown weak. The Lesser Picard is far stronger than you, and he's probably laying in a pool of his own vomit at this very moment." She got up and stood above him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Get yourself together, Will. Come out of this little trance you're in before everything you worked for...what _we've_ worked for, disappears forever." She pushed herself away from him and walked out the door.

* * *

Geordi LaForge shrugged on the bathrobe Beverly had carelessly tossed over her shoulder at him, before rolling away onto her side. "Don't know why you want one anyway," she muttered, sounding unmistakably drowsy after another vigorous bout of lovemaking. "When you've got it, flaunt it."

"He's back," said Geordi, trying to sound less tense about that fact than he really felt. "Picard."

Beverly turned and sat up in bed, gathering the covers around her, looking uncharacteristically modest and vulnerable. She seemed to realize this and tousled her hair with a rare self-consciousness. "_What?"_

LaForge had learned recently that Picard had a doppelganger from the Lesser Universe, and that man was the person Troi had been relentlessly torturing for days now while he and Beverly led a relatively hedonistic life, albeit imprisoned in her old Enterprise quarters. Geordi had been tasked with restoring the Lesser version of Data to working order, and if all went well, he had one more day of work before that was complete. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tenderly. Troi's goons had broken it during his failed assassination attempt of the Betazoid, and Beverly had expertly repaired it for him. Despite being imprisoned, they had quite a few amenities at their disposal, which was apparently something Troi had insisted upon. Everyone knew Troi and Riker were playing a game, perhaps several, but for now, they were alive.

They'd been imprisoned in Beverly's old Enterprise quarters along with the Klingon Worf and the Lesser Picard. Worf kept to himself mostly, and Geordi wasn't about to pick a fight. Besides, he had too much work to do. It was Picard who needed to worry because one day he was dragged away to the Booth for a few days, and after making a brief, groggy appearance, he disappeared for over a week. Now, he'd been dumped in Beverly's living room in the early morning hours before dawn, and Geordi didn't quite know what to make of this development. It was clear Beverly didn't either.

Geordi knew her affections for him were at least partially related to his efforts to kill Troi. If there was one thing Beverly appreciated in a subordinate, it was properly applied effort. He wrapped the bathrobe around his body. "Picard's in your living room. I can't exactly parade by him naked."

"Why not?" Her embarrassed colors turned cooler, as she regained her poise and easily turned the psychological tables on him. She tilted her head and smiled. "I hope you're not feeling inadequate, Geordi."

_I stepped into that one._ "Anyway, they must have dropped him off while we were..."

She laughed. "You know, that's probably why we didn't notice." She got up from the bed, shedding the blankets and drew him into a kiss. "Stay here," she said with a small smile.

He caught her hands at his chest. "As much as I'd like to...I have to get back to work. Data's our meal ticket out of here. If I don't fix him, Admiral, we're dead."

Her skin tone wavered from warm red to blue through his Visor. She hated rejection perhaps more than anything, and he had made a misstep just now. "You mean, _you'll_ be dead, Geordi," she corrected him sharply. Pushing him out of the way, she began to get dressed in an angry rush.

"Hey, I didn't mean to-"

"Shut up," she snapped, moving by him quickly.

* * *

Beverly walked into her living room. The lights were low, as appropriate for just after three in the morning, but she could see a shape slumped against the wall next to the main door to her quarters. She wrapped her bathrobe tighter and walked confidently toward the shape. Approaching, she could confirm that it was Picard-his non-Terran version. She stopped in front of him and nudged him with her foot. "Wake up," she ordered.

His head lolled to the side, but he didn't open his eyes or say a word. Suddenly furious for reasons she could not explain, she knelt down in front of him and grabbed his chin roughly. "I said, wake up!"

His face was wet with saliva, and disgusted, she wiped her palm off on his shirt. She slapped the side of his head, and his eyes snapped open. If he recognized her, he didn't care that she was there. "Well...that bitch Troi has done a job on you, hasn't she?" He just stared back at her blankly in the dark. "I'll bet you don't even know who the hell you are anymore, do you?"

His eyes finally seemed to focus on her face, but his features suddenly looked frozen and robotic. "I am Locutus," he whispered.

* * *

**Heyyyyyy...what's up, readers/writers? As always, thanks for following. -PP**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_MIRROR _**

**_ISS Enterprise_**

M approached just as the conversation was intensifying. One voice was almost musical in quality, with a sinister tone, and the other was gruff. They'd chosen a hallway alcove for their meeting, so maybe they weren't the brightest conspirators, but he was relying on their stupidity to keep himself alive and in the game.

"I haven't had a report from you in days, Pool," said the first voice. "I need to know how the Captain is doing!"

"I don't answer to you...but even if I did, they keep moving him every few days. I can't tell how he's doing, but the rumor is, it's not good."

M chose this moment to step around the corner. Expecting hostility, he'd come armed this time; just in case. He fabricated his most charming smile and straightened the red and black Starfleet uniform at his waist. It was his little homage to Jean-Luc, but if these two noticed his tribute, they didn't seem to appreciate it. Jenice turned and immediately drew a dagger, pointing it in his face. He wasn't surprised, but subtly gestured toward the agonizer strapped to his belt, a very real symbol of his growing status in Troi and Riker's inner circle. Only officers with clout were permitted to wear the device, and it showed that M had been entrusted with more power than was probably wise. "Good morning," he said sweetly.

Jenice Manheim slowly lowered the knife. "What do you want?"

Pool was eyeing him suspiciously, so he gave the security officer a reassuring wink.

"Maybe you should be asking me what I heard," said M smoothly. "Because I have enough on both of you to send you to the Booth for at least a week."

"Do that, and when I get out, you'll find yourself dead," growled Pool.

M merely smiled. "It's obvious what you're both doing here. So let's cut the chit chat. You have two choices: I can hand you over to the powers that be, or you can listen to what I have to say."

"That's it? Just listen?" Pool's tiny eyes narrowed even further.

"Of course that's not _it,_" Jenice snapped. "This man cannot be trusted."

"So said conspirator number one," replied M. "Look, if you want to carry out your plans and avoid detection, you'd better listen to me. It's all I'm asking...for now."

Jenice smiled thinly, still holding the knife. "Go ahead. Let's hear him out..."

M scratched the back of his head. "You want to know how Jean-Luc is doing?"

"Address him by his rank, you deadbeat," Pool objected with genuine outrage.

"Okay..._Captain Picard_ is not doing well. In fact, I'd say, whatever your planning, you'd better get on it, quick."

Jenice's expression was stony. "I don't know what you're talking about."

M laughed and rubbed his chin. "Listen playing games is fine...but this isn't the one to play. I know you're plotting against Riker and Troi-"

"And you're sleeping with Troi. Why should we trust you?"

"Oh...I don't know. Because you're sleeping with Riker?"

"I'm not sleeping with anyone," interjected Pool.

"This is not a shock," said M distastefully, before turning back to Jenice. "Come on...we're in the perfect position to do some real damage here!"

Jenice glanced at Pool and back at M. "What exactly are you proposing?"

M lowered his voice. "How many of the crew do you have between you who will swear allegiance to Jean...to Captain Picard?"

Pool raised his chin proudly. "At least half the crew. They won't know what's hit 'em."

M had to admit he was impressed and a little surprised by these numbers. "Will they follow me?"

Jenice nearly dropped her knife, before reattaching it with deliberate slowness back at her waist. Pool's jaw was hanging open, and it took Jenice a few moments to look at M again. When she did, he saw potential violence in her cool blue eyes. "_What_ did you say?"

M crossed his arms and adopted his least condescending stance. "Look...Captain Picard is a mess. He can barely speak. We have to find a way to finish mobilizing the crew behind him without them knowing how debilitated he is."

"This is a trap," Jenice said slowly. "Pool, don't say another word to this man. He's working for Troi, and he'll have us both dead in no time."

"That's not true," said M.

Pool poked M in the chest with his stubby finger. "What's in it for you? Why would you risk death to help the Captain?"

"Because if I don't help him, we're all going to die."

* * *

**Romulus-the Apnex Coast**

The walkway was narrow and when one looked down, there was only darkness. It was unsettling, to say the least. Riker glanced around warily as he began to see humanoid figures in his periphery as they descended further and further into what appeared to be the innards of a mountain. The figures looked as though they were busily working, but on what, he couldn't tell. Finally, they reached a rock face that seemed impassable, and they all stopped. Jeanette had remained silent at the head of the group and abruptly turned to address them. "Do not speak unless necessary. As I said...Romulans don't like foreigners."

"And I do not like Romulans," growled Worf.

In the blink of an eye, the young teen was standing in front of the Klingon. No one actually saw her move, and collective dizziness descended on them for a moment. "Do not engage with the Romulans," Jeanette warned with all seriousness, glaring up at Worf. "They will not hesitate to kill you."

Beverly experienced a rush of wind and Jeanette was standing next to her again. The girl smiled sweetly up at her mother and took her hand. Beverly, for her part, didn't know what to think, and merely stood as firmly as possible as she watched Jeanette wave her hand again, and a door opened without a sound.

They entered an immense cavern, within which, perhaps fifty scientists or engineers worked busily

Jeanette led them inward, and following her lead, they said nothing to the locals, who appeared to ignore them.

"Seems like we were expected," Riker murmured. The cave was, just that, but it was also full of technology. Some of it oddly seemed antiquated and familiar, while other panels melted into the rock walls seamlessly, as though completely integrated with nature.

"In case you're wondering," said Jeanette. "We're inside the cliffs, next to the Apex Sea. The very best hiding place," she added, before stopping.

"What are you hiding from?" Deanna Troi asked.

Jeanette looked at her with a half-amused expression. "The Unifiers," she said.

"Who are the Unifiers?" said Wesley.

The girl who appeared to be his sister merely smiled placidly at him. "I'll let him explain."

"Who?" Wesley and the others turned to see a tall cloaked figure striding toward them.

"Jeanette, we shall leave the discussion of Romulan politics for another occasion," said the newcomer. "I am Spock," said the man. "Welcome."As the man unceremoniously removed his hood to reveal unmistakably Vulcan ears, Riker had to blink a few times and reached out to steady himself on a support that wasn't there. T'Pel's tales about Spock from the mirror universe escaping assassination and finding a way to survive had apparently been more than just stories. A thin, greying beard was all that visually distinguished him from the legendary Spock from Riker's universe; again, a man he had never met, but whose vast influence had shaped the Starfleet that Riker knew.

Spock eyed the group. "Most of you are familiar to me..." His gaze rested briefly on T'Pel, who was typically serene. "I will say that your presence here is necessary. However, accounting for Romulan prejudices, some adjustments may need to be made."

Riker stepped forward. "Mr. Spock...it's an honor to meet you. But, what are you doing here, and why is our presence here necessary? Our ship is disabled and in need of supplies. We were on a reconnaissance mission when we met this...young lady-"

Spock frowned. "Mr. Riker, you and your compatriots will need to hand Jeanette your weapons now."

Will's eyebrows shot up. _I didn't introduce myself, yet he knows who I am._ "I'm afraid we can't do that until we learn more about why you think our presence here is necessary."

Spock nodded slightly, but there was now an expression of impatience on his wizened face. "The information you must, and in my judgment, should have access to is limited at this time. Therefore, I will tell you that I require a surgeon with particular qualifications." He turned his gaze to Beverly Crusher. "An expert who is familiar with Human and Terran physiology, as well as Borg cybernetics and android positronics. Doctor Crusher, you are the obvious choice."

Beverly steadied her voice, still reeling from the dreamlike circumstances. She looked down to find that Jeanette had again disappeared from her side. "Mr. Spock...I'm afraid I'm not following. Surgery requires at the bare minimum, a patient-"

"He's over here, Mommy," a voice called out to her.

Beverly turned to find that Jeanette was now on the far side of the cavern in a brightly lit area. As the girl beckoned them, Beverly's eyes caught on a familiar form. A kind of surgical theater had been set up, and on an elevated platform lay the Terran Jean-Luc Picard. He appeared to be unconscious, but this did not calm her furiously beating heart in the least. "What in the hell?" she heard herself exclaim. The Terran Yar was seated nearby, looking very groggy and with her hands secured behind her back.

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned back to Riker. "Now...you will hand over your weapons. If these Romulans are forced to assist me, I can assure you that violence will occur."

* * *

_**ISS Enterprise**_

Geordi pulled back to observe his progress. The Lesser Data now at least outwardly appeared to be well. The servomotors and operational fluids inside his torso had been repaired, and LaForge had begun to wonder again just what Riker had planned for this version of Data. He'd considered sabotaging the project, perhaps building an explosive inside. But Geordi had already had one failed assassination attempt under his belt, and now that he was reunited with Beverly, he'd gladly let her make any strategic decisions that involved killing their rivals. Besides, the more he worked on Data, the more he remembered his friendship with the now fallen Emperor, and the less he cared about Riker and Troi.

LaForge was almost ready to do a test run when Crusher reappeared. He didn't bother to ask where she'd been because her choices were limited to strolling about her quarters which were large, but increasingly confining. He knew that she would only stand for the confinement for so long, and he was glad about that. Being Troi's prisoner wasn't what either of them was meant for. He lifted his palm back over his shoulder to briefly glance at her before resuming his work. She was day drinking again, something she did when stressed, but the habit wasn't particularly helpful to alleviate the situation they were in. "How are you doing?" he asked, still focusing on his repairs.

She didn't answer, but turning his head slightly he could see her approach the area where Picard had last been. He sighed inwardly and decided to let her brood.

"I found out what they're doing to him," she said, her voice slurring ever so slightly.

LaForge turned now to face her, putting down his hyper spanner.

She brushed the hair out of her eyes and sniffed in. "It has to do with the Borg." She downed the last of her drink and put it down noisily on a nearby counter. "I knew the Lesser Picard had been captured by the Borg in his universe. He had some vestiges of Borg implants to show for it. Well, it seems that for Borg-related reasons, Troi has decided to make him revisit his prior experience." Her hand hovered over the counter for a moment, and he thought she might throw the glass. You just never knew with her. But then she dropped her hands down and looked at him. "I knew he was weak, but I thought we had a potential ally, Geordi. She's utterly destroyed him. The worst part," she said quietly, "is that the Borg are after this ship. After him. We could all _die,_ and once again Jean-Luc Picard would be to blame. That man...in any universe is absolute poison."

"How'd you find this out?"

She smiled at him. "Geordi...come on, you know our every move is being monitored."

_As if she cares who's watching! So who is she protecting? _LaForge rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. _Reginald Barclay...that stuttering kiss-ass found a way to communicate with her._ "Sure," he said aloud, quite willing to drop the subject.

Her colors warmed suddenly and she leaned on the counter in front of her. "Geordi, I'm sorry for what I said to you."

He froze, shocked by the apology and overwhelmed by the large number of insults she could potentially be apologizing to him for.

"I should have never accused you of being disloyal...of trying to save yourself first. You proved your loyalty to me tenfold when you tried to kill Troi." She paused to pour herself a new drink. "Of course, you couldn't quite manage it...but not everyone is cut out to be a murderer, Geordi. And Troi, well, it just wasn't her time yet." She took a long drink before smiling at him with an ominous expression. "But it will be. When I decide to make my move, not even her telepathic powers will save her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Prime Universe**

**Utopia Planitia Shipyards-Mars**

Vice Admiral Alynna Nechayev tossed the latest fleet reports onto her desk and rubbed her eyes. Reading report after report of disturbing news was beginning to get to her. In front of a subordinate, she wouldn't have let her guard down, but as usual, at this late hour, she was in her temporary office completely focused on her work, and completely alone. At least, she thought she was alone. Her staff were on strict orders not to disturb her, so her first reaction was to be annoyed when the door across from her desk swished open without warning. As the shadowy figure stepped into her office, her instincts had her reaching for the security intercom.

"You have no reason to fear me, Admiral," said the intruder, approaching quietly. The slim, tall figure sat down across from her without invitation, but something about the hooded newcomer caused her to relax to a degree and she sat back in the chair, dropping her hand from the intercom.

"Who are you and how the _hell_ did you get into a high-security facility?"

"I used my diplomatic credentials to get to Mars. Once I arrived, I found the security arrangements to be...surmountable." A tanned, olive-skinned hand reached from beneath drab brown robes to drop a small card on the desk. Nechayev swiped up the card and looked at it.

"Special envoy from Ambassador Spock?" Nechayev slid the card back to her guest, who retrieved it deftly but remained silent.

"Such a prestigious envoy should be able to show her face," Nechayev snapped.

There was a moment's hesitation before the hood was pulled back to reveal a beautiful, but partially mutilated face. One half of the Vulcan woman's face was deeply scarred, the other smooth and virtually untouched by the years that had passed since their last meeting.

"T'Pel," Nechayev whispered. "What are you doing here?" She demanded in a stronger voice. "Your last known location was on board the _Enterprise_ when it disappeared, presumably into an alternate universe, months ago."

T'Pel replaced the hood over her face and folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Forgive me Admiral...this artificial lighting irritates my skin." She paused. "The person who made contact with Captain Louvois was not me, nor was she a Vulcan."

Nechayev's mind began to race. How was she to know if this was the real T'Pel? "Go on."

"Many months ago, after returning from a pilgrimage to the desert, I was in my home meditating, when I was attacked. The intruders were quite skilled, well-armed, and as such, I was overwhelmed."

"Who were they?"

T'Pel raised her chin. "Romulans."

Nechayev set her jaw and leaned in as T'Pel continued.

"The leader was female and very strong. She attempted a crude mind-meld, of course against my will. Romulans do not utilize mind melds, and it was clear that she had been trained to perform one...perhaps hastily so. Because of her lack of skill, during the process, I managed to read her thoughts as well. Her primary intent was to gain all of my knowledge, thoughts, and opinions, about my prior career in Starfleet, my colleagues, acquaintances, and my knowledge of the Vulcan archives. She stole a very special relic from the Archives...a large sandstone container that was thought to have been the property of Spock-more specifically, his counterpart from the so-called Mirror universe."

"To what end was she doing all of this?"

"Perhaps the relic held information crucial to her mission. However, what is clear is that this Romulan intended to replicate my genetic material for the purpose of masquerading as me."

"My God...then your face-"

"The mutilation of my face was caused by surgery performed on me after I was subdued and incapacitated," T'Pel confirmed. "The person who represented herself as T'Pel to infiltrate the Enterprise crew had every intention of stopping the man representing himself as Jack Crusher from killing Captain Picard. But she also intended on capturing Captain Picard and bringing him to Romulus. Why exactly, I cannot be certain. She was either able to shield her full thoughts from me, or she herself had only been given this duty, with little else to guide her."

"But...why would a Romulan do such a thing? Romulans keep to themselves. We haven't heard only infrequently from them in years-"

"This Romulan is not from our universe."

"How do you know that?"

"As I said...I was able to perform a mind-meld. And as I looked into her mind, I saw many terrible things. Things she has done...things that she has seen that are not of this universe. Technologies that we cannot yet contemplate, nor should we desire to achieve such horrors." T'Pel got up slowly from her seat and walked toward a viewport. She gazed for a long moment at the ships floating outside, most of which were under construction. She turned to face Nechayev. "The rumor is that Starfleet is developing a secret weapon...a Borg killing vessel. Perhaps it is the reason why you are here on Mars."

Nechayev crossed her arms stiffly. "Secret weapons have a way of staying secret until they're purposefully revealed."

"Then you neither confirm nor deny this rumor?"

Nechayev gave a quick laugh. "I appreciate the information you just gave me, T'Pel...if I am to believe that you are truly you..."

"I am," the Vulcan said softly.

"But I feel that there is something you are holding back," pressed Nechayev.

"The Borg continue to amass an armada at Gamma sector 441," said T'Pel calmly. "And yet, your intelligence has likely not discovered the reason for this Borg resurgence."

"No," Nechayev admitted quietly. "And...secret weapons or no, if we must face the Borg again, we won't survive."

"The link is Captain Picard," said T'Pel. "Or perhaps more accurately, Locutus. If the Romulan whose mind I glimpsed is correct, the Borg implanted in his brain a device that will ensure that if Captain Picard falls into the wrong hands again, we will all die."

Nechayev stood up quickly and finally exploded with anger, slamming her palm down on her desk. "How _dare_ you come in here and spout all of this nonsense at me, when you know _damn_ well that Captain Picard isn't even in this universe anymore! Our friend is likely already dead, T'Pel. So what do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

"Admiral, I am expecting you to take your secret weapon ship into the mirror universe, and bring him back."

* * *

_**MIRROR **_

_**ISS Enterprise Borg Saucer**_

"I need more time with my prisoner, Will. There is something he is keeping from me, and I must have his total compliance!"

"He's _our_ prisoner, Deanna...and we may just be running out of time. The Borg are closing in on us again, and if you hadn't noticed, we're the last damn Terran ship that we know of."

Troi raced by him on impossibly high heeled boots and forcing him to halt, pointed up into his face. "I _gave_ you the Klingon subspace codes, Will...the ones Crusher and Worf tried to sneak onto this ship. Get the Klingons to bend to your will...Will! If you can't convince a bunch of raggedy Klingons to join us, you must truly be losing your touch, _Admiral._"

"Look Deanna...the Borg said they want Picard. We might not have _the_ Picard, but we have his Lesser version. Now there is a good chance that if we hand him over now, they'll leave us alone long enough for us to find a transwarp conduit and escape. Barclay says-"

"I don't want to hear about Barclay, that lying snitch. He's totally devoted to Crusher and I wish you would lock him up with the rest of her garbage crew."

"Barclay may be a loser, Deanna, but he's a useful one. You said so yourself."

"He's been sending her secret messages, I know he has."

Riker shrugged. "Hasn't done her any good though. She's still locked up and under our control."

"Enough about her! Will, you need to gain us some reinforcements or at least cannon fodder in case the Borg return. Talk to the Klingon leader again-what's his name?"

"General Kurn," said Riker. He took a deep breath, knowing she would not want to hear his next statement. "Look, I have talked to the Klingons...but they want Worf returned to them, and they'll only negotiate a temporary alliance with Crusher." He staggered and grabbed his forehead, nearly falling over from the force of her anger. The idea that she might have to give some ground to Beverly Crusher was a difficult pill to swallow for Troi, he knew.

Gradually the haze in his mind lifted and he opened his eyes cautiously, looking down at her. "You know I'm right."

Troi closed her eyes for a moment, before turning her cold gaze upward again. "Fine. But we're doing this my way. I'm not going to see Crusher without something to throw her off." She smiled thinly. "Get me young Wesley, and we'll have a little chat."

* * *

**Third Space-Romulus**

To say that Beverly Crusher was out of her element was only half true. Yes, she was lost inside yet another strange dimension, but she was also surrounded by some very impressive medical equipment and had been given a specific task to do; one within her capabilities. While she hadn't agreed to Spock's directive that she perform surgery on the Terran Picard, she wasn't sure she actually had a choice in the matter. Mentally she had begun to prepare herself for the probability that she would have to perform brain surgery on Picard, possibly at gunpoint. Spock had also mentioned almost casually, that she would be assisted surgically by one of the finest surgeons on Romulus, Doctor Sadek, who she had yet to meet. There was nothing about this situation that made her feel comfortable, but for now, she told herself to be alert and stay strong. She had to do that for Wesley and Jeanette.

For the moment, she was checking on her patient, who had been in and out of a fitful sleep now for hours. She rarely looked directly at his face, for if she did, she felt a pang in her chest, reminding her of Jean-Luc. She had begun to wonder if she would ever see him again, and the heartache was no longer acute but had turned into a dull pain, a kind of acceptance. He had been away for so long, that his absence felt almost normal to her. But although she had found ways to cope, just below the surface was an intense sadness that threatened to overwhelm her in moments when she was alone.

She was learning to identify the Romulan instruments, some of which were familiar enough. She had picked up what appeared to be a portable monitor when a steely grip closed onto her right wrist.

"Listen to me," Picard rasped, his eyes wild and desperate as they stared into hers. "Is Riker with you? We can stage an ambush. We'll kill Spock first, then-"

She put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. "You can hardly get out of bed, let alone stage an ambush."

"He wants to open up my skull-I won't let him...I'll kill him the next time I see him!"

"Listen to me," Beverly gritted her teeth and pressed his hand back down onto his chest, glancing behind her as subtly as possible." We're outnumbered and you are currently incapacitated. Even if we were on the same side, which we're not, I'd tell you to rest and regain your strength." She eyed a small instrument that could have been a hypospray, but it had a tiny needle at it's exit point. She noted Picard had a tiny red dot on his neck indicating he'd been injected there more than once.

"Regain my strength? Why, I'm completely fine-"

"You were shot with a high-powered weapon within the last 24 hours, and if you recall, you officially _died_ in my sickbay."

"Listen, you bitch-"

She brought the needle up to his neck quickly and he was immediately knocked out.

"What is the status of the Terran patient?" Came an imperious voice from behind her.

She spun around to find a stocky Romulan with thick eyebrows, staring her down. "He's unconscious," she answered as easily as possible. "Are you Doctor Sadek?"

The man merely scowled, and turned to walk away quickly.

Beverly watched him depart with a growing uneasiness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**MIRROR**

Beverly Crusher glanced up from the table where she had been studying a crescent-shaped instrument. Sighing, she placed it back down on the table with a click and picked up a glass of wine. "Your Visor was damaged when Troi's thugs broke your nose," she called out across the room. "Why didn't you say anything? And more importantly, why haven't you fixed it? You've just been wandering around with a half-broken Visor?"

Geordi was bent over Data's inert form, which was laid out on a countertop. At Beverly's question, LaForge straightened slowly but didn't turn around. "To tell you the truth, I don't mind. I prefer the palm implant you made for me anyway."

Beverly shrugged and leaned back in her chair, looking on with a bored expression. She had gotten used to seeing the android's perpetually staring, wide-eyed expression. It reminded her of the old days when Data answered to her-before he got too big for his second-officer position and wanted more.

Geordi returned to his work, eventually saying, "I'm almost done with him. Not much more I can do with the tools they've given me. I have no idea what Riker wants with this version of Data, but he's only going to be about eighty-five percent of what he should be." He slowly pulled the android up to a sitting position and opened a port at his temple.

"He probably doesn't even know what he wants-just wanted to see you scramble. You should know by now, Geordi; Riker and Troi never think a plan through all the way," said Beverly. "They are two lazy fools."

She stretched out her legs and put her bare feet up on the table. After an afternoon shower, she hadn't bothered to change out of her bathrobe. What the hell was the point of getting dressed?

She gave a slow, disinterested glance down the table at the man slumped over with his forehead pasted to the wood. He'd been positioned like that for at least a half-hour, after having been dragged from yet another interrogation and dumped here. "Has anyone checked recently to see if he's still breathing?"

LaForge raised his seeing palm to look over his shoulder. "Yep. Still alive."

"Well...then they need to send us a redshirt to give him a bath. He stinks."

"That prisoner's treatment is _unacceptable_," boomed Worf from the other side of the room. "If you had any honor, Crusher, you would ensure better treatment for him."

Geordi spun and leveled a calibration tool at Worf. "Watch yourself, Klingon!"

Crusher laughed. "Oh come _on_, Geordi. Thank you for defending my honor, but you're not fooling anyone with that act. Besides... what's left of my honor can only be found in the bottom of this glass..." She held it up and peered into it with a half-amused expression.

"Why don't you take a _break_ from the wine for a few minutes?" The irritation in Geordi's tone was unmistakable.

"Why do you still pretend to care about me?" She snapped back at him.

He turned back to Data in angry silence.

Worf moved to sit down across from her. He grabbed a piece of replicated fruit from the table and bit into it, still staring her down. "This Picard is a decent man. He should not be abused in this manner, and you know it. Why do you permit this..._crime_ to continue?"

Beverly waved him off lazily. She was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol and didn't want to be bothered by serious subjects like ethics and decency. "If you haven't noticed, Worf...I'm a prisoner too."

"Yes, but you are anything _but_ a victim. If you wanted to, you could negotiate your way out of this."

"Just like I negotiated with you to get me Klingon ships and allies? That worked out so _well_ for me," she laughed and slapped her hand down on the table to emphasize her point. She leaned back in her chair and groaned up at the ceiling. "I had plans to be Emperor, and now look at me! Not even an empire to rule...they've all been assimilated or killed by those ruthless automatons."

"You Terrans are completely ruled by your self-interest, and you are no different. You were destined to fall," Word growled.

"And what of your people, Worf? Honor-bound, and subjects of the Terran Empire."

"The Terran Empire no longer exists-you said as much yourself."

"The Terrans...well we've had a few missteps. But make no mistake, Worf: we will be back."

"My brother Kurn and his bird of prey squadron will hunt this ship down, and they will not be as reasonable as I am."

Crusher yawned. "Let them come then! Honestly, I just want to get drunk."

"You are already drunk," observed Worf. Indeed, the former Admiral was nearly falling out of her seat.

"Well, then I want to _stay_ drunk. I'm not interested in hearing about all of this nonsense."

Just then the front door to her quarters swished open and M walked confidently in with his typical knowing smile. He was accompanied by two red-uniformed security guards and was wearing the Lesser Picard's Starfleet uniform, a practice that had come to be the norm for him. "Hello, friends," he announced sweetly.

Crusher leaned on her elbows, returning his fake smile. "Well, if it isn't Troi's little messenger boy. What news do you bring us today, Faux Jack?"

"Telling lies at warp speed," Geordi commented dryly.

M clasped his hands in front of him and grinned, immune to insults of any kind. In fact, he fed off them. "Troi is hosting a dinner here this evening, with all of you as her esteemed guests. She has some proposals to share with you, which I'm sure you'll find _fascinating_."

"Get out of here before I break your neck," Worf threatened.

Ignoring Worf, M snapped his fingers at the guards and pointed at Picard. "Get him cleaned up before dinner. He's ruining the ambiance. Troi wants the mood to be just right." They hurried in to lift up the unconscious Picard and began to carry him to the bathroom.

M turned for the door, giving them all a little wave. "See you all in a few hours."

Crusher tried to leap up to yell at him as he departed but nearly fell over. She groaned and leaned her forehead onto the table. "The gods have disfavored me," she complained to no one in particular, turning her cheek to the side. "I am too drunk to have a conversation with this table, let alone Troi. I need to sober up soon. I'm not about to lose the rest of my dignity to that Betazoid tart."

Worf slid her a glass of water. "You will need this."

She raised her half-lidded eyes to look at the earnest Klingon. She wasn't used to real kindness and wasn't sure what to think. "Are you kidding? Geordi!"

LaForge turned halfway, still stung from their last verbal encounter. "Huh?"

"Get me-will you please get me my med kit? I need to take something that will get rid of my future hangover and help me deal with Troi."

He grabbed the kit from where it was sitting against the wall and brought it to her, placing it down with a click. "You got it, doc," he said with a half-smile.

She smiled woozily back at him. "Thanks."

* * *

**Third Space-Romulus**

Riker accepted the steaming bowl of soup Spock handed him, and glanced over at his colleague. Deanna was already eating her soup hungrily.

The area they were now in was stark but had several chairs and cots for sleeping. _Are we prisoners here? _Riker noted the absence of Romulans in this room.

Worf and Ensign Singh stood nearby looking on suspiciously, and Wesley slurped a bowl of soup, glancing furtively at Spock. He wanted to ask where Jeanette was but thought better of it. She appeared to come and go as she wished.

Yar, who was still handcuffed, surveyed the new room they were in perhaps memorizing any potential structural weaknesses, should she have the opportunity to escape. She hadn't spoken to anyone since they had all met again inside Spock's underground cavernous base. Meanwhile, the Terran Picard was confined to a medical area where he had been mostly unconscious, and Beverly was still monitoring him.

Riker called to Worf. "Has anyone seen T'Pel?"

"She disappeared over two hours ago," Worf replied.

Spock sat down in a chair. "The time has come for some truth-telling."

Riker put his bowl down and leaned on his knee. "We're listening."

Spock turned slightly to acknowledge the entry of someone new into the room.

Riker sat up. "T'Pel...where the hell have you been?"

The woman was now dressed differently and sported a Romulan disruptor at her hip. "I am not T'Pel," she said, still sounding like T'Pel. "I am Denata. I am the leader of the Romulans you observed in this cavern."

Riker stood up quickly as Worf and Singh moved to his side. "What is this about? You led us to believe you were Captain Picard's old friend..."

She nodded with a tight, un-Vulcan smile. "That is correct. Put simply, I lied. And...I used the genetic material of T'Pel of Vulcan to replicate her features, her memories, even her personality."

Worf pulled his phaser. "Where is the real T'Pel? Did you murder her?"

"The Klingon will hand over his weapon, or be killed," declared Denata coldly.

"Answer his question, and maybe we can avoid more bloodshed," Riker nearly shouted.

"She lives," said Denata.

"She's telling the truth, Will," said Deanna, looking on watchfully.

Riker shook his head in frustration. "I don't understand...you bring us here, dragged through _three_ different universes, and for what? To perform brain surgery on the biggest asshole across two universes...for _what_?"

Spock remained impassive. "If I were to explain everything in minute detail at this time, Commander, I would be remiss in my duty, which is far greater than you know. Denata is the leader of the Romulan Separatists. She and the others working inside this base are fighting what may be a losing battle against the Unifier majority of the Romulan Star Empire. The young female you met, and refer to as 'Jeanette' is the only non-Romulan, aside from myself, currently residing on this planet. Jeanette has proven to be an integral part of the Separatist group, and has been accepted by these Romulans, as much as Romulans will ever accept an outsider."

"And why are we here?" Riker repeated to Spock. "Was it you who engineered all of this? The mistaken identities of Jack Crusher and T'Pel, and all of the carnage that resulted? Was it you who somehow brought us here?"

"Yes," said Spock simply. "Although Jeanette's presence on the Enterprise and her occasional navigation also brought you here. In fact, without her, I would not have been so successful. And yet, in many ways, I have failed. While the Terran Picard is crucial to aiding these separatists, there are as yet other pieces to the puzzle which we must locate in order to achieve our goal."

"Which is what?"

"The Separatists believe that multi-universes should be maintained as part of the natural order of things. This does not mean that they believe in peaceful relations, however. Separatists are just as xenophobic as the Romulan majority, which rivals the Terrans in their belief that their race is superior." He glanced at Denata, who smiled in apparent confirmation of this statement.

Riker felt Deanna's mind brush his and knew she was telling him that something wasn't quite right about Spock's monologue. "And these 'Unifiers' Jeanette warned us about?" he prompted.

"The Unifiers seek the destruction of all universes, with the exception of this artificial one consisting only of the planet Romulus and a few of its moons...the so-called Third Space."

"You created this place?" Wesley suddenly interrupted. "I mean...Jeanette said someone had created the Third Space. Someone she was working with or working for."

Spock turned and pierced the young man with a quizzical expression. "Yes, young Mr. Crusher. My greatest scientific achievement and yet...no one but Romulans to share it with until now."

"You sound proud of this place," said Riker.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Commander, even Vulcans have pride."

"And yet, you have doubts about what you're doing," said Deanna. "You are unsure of what will happen once these puzzle pieces, as you refer to them are here on Romulus." She closed her eyes in concentration. "Aside from the Terran Picard, whose surgery you say is essential, you are waiting for others...Data...but not our Data, and..." her eyes snapped open. "Captain Picard! You want to kill our Captain Picard," she whispered. "But _why?_"

Yar suddenly sprang from her chair slamming her bound fists into Denata's head, and when that didn't drop the Romulan, she wrapped her bound arms around Denata's neck, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The scuffle lasted a quick few seconds before the sound of a disruptor blast exploded in the room. Denata got to her feet quickly and re-holstered the weapon. "Terran scum," she spat. She glared at Spock. "The coming of outworlders to our home will bring nothing but more violence," she warned him. "Is that what you want?" She didn't wait for him to answer, as she breezed out of the room.

Worf was kneeling down next to Yar, who was pale, yet breathing shallowly. "She is alive. She was shot with a stun setting, but not one designed for non-Romulan anatomy."

Deanna addressed Ensign Singh. "Find Beverly. Yar needs medical attention."

Singh made a distasteful face. Yar had nearly killed him once back on the Enterprise. But he turned to go, managing to get out a "yes, sir."

"What the hell is going on here?" Riker demanded, pointing at Spock. "We're not going along with any game you've created, Mr. Spock."

"You will find in time, that you have no choice," replied Spock.

"Deanna just read your mind...you want to kill Captain Picard? Are you bringing him here?"

"He is being brought here as we speak...although not through the means I would have wished. As to his death, it would seem that Counselor Troi is not a full telepath, for it is not I who wishes to kill Captain Picard. However...there are many others on this planet who will see to that. I am afraid that his death may be inevitable."

* * *

**Hey, thanks for all of your reviews and for continuing to read this story. I hope you are enjoying. Be well and stay safe!-PP**


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